


Stuck

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Remy's cats, Sick Fic, quickbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro hates flying on a good day. Flying when he's sick is even worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> From a Tumblr prompt, written on my overseas flight today. If cats on planes are anything like cats in cars, they're not happy campers. But the cats aren't the center of this story.

“Why couldn't we take the Serval jet?” 

Remy twisted in his seat and said to Lorna, “Ya hear that? His majesty wants a private jet.” 

Pietro scoffed and turned towards the window. His long legs looked uncomfortably bent, knees pressed against the seat in front of him. 

Lorna rolled her eyes and leaned forward. “Stop complaining. The jet's in for repairs. And besides, we're just being security for Snow in case something goes wrong. It's not an actual mission.” 

“Although,” Remy said, “Why does Snow get first class and we get economy?” 

“He's the owner of a multi-million dollar company,” Lorna said. 

“It's unfair, is what it is,” Remy muttered. He turned back around and accidentally kicked the plastic carrier under his seat, which emitted a low growl. 

Pietro shot it a glare and muttered, “Why did you have to bring your pets?” 

“Aren't we grumpy today,” Remy shot back. “My lovely--”

“--devils--” 

“--pets wouldn't be able ta live without me for two whole weeks. And it's a light assignment with plenty of down time. And Snow said I could, so there.” 

“Mature.” 

“You should talk. By the way, don't kick Lucifer,” Remy warned. “He'll remember you did, and that cat holds a grudge.” 

Pietro stared at the space underneath the chair in front of him, where another cat carrier had been stashed. “Why you would name your cat Lucifer I'll never know,” he said. But Remy noticed that he'd attempted to draw his legs closer to his body. 

“You don't need ta do that,” Remy told him. “Just be careful.” 

“You be careful,” Pietro snapped. Remy held up his hands defensively. 

“Whoa there. Seriously, what's your problem today?” 

Pietro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Headache. And I keep thinking about how much faster I could make this trip if I ran there.” 

Remy kneaded Pietro's shoulder. “S'alright. It must feel like an eternity ta you up here. And I know you don't like being trapped.” 

“Certainly not in a metal tube full of volatile fuel and recycled air suspended by delicate physics.” 

“Planes are safer than cars,” Remy pointed out. “And running at the speed of sound.” 

“My running is perfectly safe,” Pietro said.

“And how many times have you crashed inta things and seriously injured yourself?” 

“I'm not talking to you anymore,” Pietro said. “I'm going to sleep, and you're going to not disturb me.” 

“Fair enough,” Remy said, prodding the touch screen in front of him. At least he'd have entertainment. 

Pietro leaned against the window and went still. 

*

“Let's play a game,” Doug said from behind Pietro. 

“Let's not,” Lorna said. 

“You're not watching anything. I'm not watching anything.” 

“I'm reading and trying not to kick Remy's spawn,” Lorna said. 

“It's a cat,” Remy said loudly. “What do you and Pietro not get about that?” 

“The cat part,” Doug supplied helpfully. “What are you getting for food anyway? Fish, chicken, or rice?” 

“Chicken,” Remy said. 

“Rice,” Lorna answered. 

“You,” Doug said to Remy, “are a braver man than I.” 

“Get the fish,” Lorna told him. “It'll be fun.” 

Remy poked Pietro in the arm and he groaned. “Food. Fish, chicken, or rice. Choose.” 

“None,” Pietro murmured, keeping his eyes closed. Remy noticed that his cheeks were flushed even though the plane was bordering on cold. 

“We got six more hours,” Remy said. “You gotta eat something.” 

“Rice.” Pietro looked like he was trying to meld into the window. 

The flight attendant came by and gave Remy chicken and set rice on Pietro's tray table. Remy nudged Pietro again, only for the other man to swat his hand away. 

“You'll have plenty more time for beauty sleep,” Remy chided. “Eat.” 

“Yes, mother,” Pietro said, and with a groan he sat up and opened his meal. He grimaced at the cheesy rice he'd uncovered. Remy dug into his chicken with an enthusiasm the food hadn't earned, but given the location he was happy there was food at all. 

He finished and glanced over at Pietro, frowning. Pietro was leaning on his tray, head supported by one hand while with his free hand he stirred the rice around. There was still plenty left. 

“You alright?” Remy asked. 

“No,” Pietro said, shoving the food onto Remy's tray and turning away to curl up against the window.

Remy placed a cautious hand on Pietro's shoulder. “What's wrong?” 

“I feel ill,” Pietro said. He was shivering. Remy moved his hand to Pietro's forehead and found it startlingly hot. 

“Hey Lorna,” he said, turning around. “What d'you do when someone's sick on a plane?” 

“Why?” 

“Pietro's got a fever.” 

Lorna leaned forward and stuck her head in between the gap in Remy's and Pietro's seats. “Pietro? Are you okay?” 

“No,” Pietro groused. “I feel like shit, I'm trapped thousands of feet in the air, and there is still an angry creature at my feet promising vengeance if I do something wrong.” 

“Noted,” Lorna said. “Fever? Is that it?” 

“Everything hurts,” Pietro said. “And I feel sick.” 

“We got these air sickness bags,” Remy said. 

“Go away,” Pietro moaned, waving an arm at Remy's face. 

“I have painkillers,” Lorna added. “Or does that not work with your metabolism?” 

“It'll be absorbed too fast,” Pietro told her. 

“Why you gotta be so high maintenance?” Remy asked. This time Pietro managed to hit him in the chest. 

“Why don't you pretend that you're in your room?” Doug suggested. “It's easy because Remy's here and so are his cats.” 

“Why don't you all let me sleep?” Pietro snapped. 

“Or that,” Doug said. 

Pietro closed his eyes again and Remy watched him, worried. He had been amused by Pietro's behavior earlier but now it had changed into concern. He knew how much Pietro hated planes and being ill on top of that wasn't helping. And with Pietro, illnesses hit not only fast, but hard. 

Pietro couldn't seem to keep still, shifting to try and get comfortable. He kicked the cat carrier several times but didn't seem to care. Remy could hear several meows of protest, but ignored them as well. The cat could deal. 

“Remy,” Pietro said after a few moments. “I need to get up.” 

Remy stood, allowing Pietro to go past, and said, “Want company?” 

Pietro gave him a disgusted look and said, “No,” before making his way towards the toilets. Remy followed him anyway, and slipped inside with Pietro before he closed the door. 

“What are you doing?” Pietro hissed. “People will notice and think--” 

“That we joined the mile high club?” Remy winked. “I'm flattered but, chere, I got standards. And they don't include fucking in a tiny bathroom during turbulence.” 

“Right,” Pietro muttered, gripping the sink. 

“I wanted ta make sure you'd be alright,” Remy added. “You look bad.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Clearly you're not okay.” 

“You should leave,” Pietro said, taking a shuddering breath. “It's too cramped.” 

“Then who'd comfort you?” 

“I d-don't need--” Pietro cut himself off, his teeth chattering audibly. Remy started rubbing circles into his back. 

“You're a terrible liar,” he said. 

Pietro answered by retching and vomiting into the sink. Remy kept him steady as he was sick, as he coughed and gagged. The retching turned to dry heaving and then his knees gave out. Remy held him upright. 

“Whoa there. See what I meant about needing help?” 

Pietro didn't answer. He just shook against Remy, holding onto the sink with a death-like grip. 

“Ready ta go back?” 

“Ugh.” Pietro leaned over the sink and retched again. Remy waited until he was done. 

“Now?” 

“A moment,” Pietro rasped, taking a few deep breaths. He turned on the faucet and rinsed his mouth out before nodding to Remy. 

They exited the bathroom to a flight attendant giving them a disappointed look. 

“He's sick,” Remy mouthed. The attendant didn't look convinced. Remy helped Pietro back to his seat. Lorna looked like she wanted to laugh but also be a good, concerned sister. 

Pietro sank into his seat and as soon as Remy sat down, he rested his head on Remy's shoulder. 

“I gotta wait till you're sick ta get affection, huh?” Remy said. Pietro didn't answer. “Right.” He settled back. “Well, I hope you can sleep this off.” 

And for two hours Pietro did sleep it off. But then he gasped, shooting upright and nearly giving Remy a concussion. 

“What's wrong?” 

Pietro grabbed Remy's arm and looked around, his glassy eyes darting all over the place and not focusing on anything. “Where are we?” 

“Plane,” Lorna answered. “Still.” 

“I need to go,” Pietro gasped, clutching Remy's arm tighter. “I need to--” He tried to rise from his seat but Remy pulled him down. 

“We don't need ta go anywhere,” he said. 

“No, I do,” Pietro hissed. “We're trapped, this place is small, I--” He tried to stand again, and again Remy pulled him down, this time following through by wrapping his arms around Pietro and holding him close to his chest. 

The other man still felt too hot and he was muttering in panicked high-speed. Remy couldn't understand. He just stroked Pietro's hair, damp from perspiration, and whispered, “Shh. You're not trapped. I'm here.” 

Pietro tried to pull away while still talking in worryingly incomprehensible speech, but Remy didn't let go. 

“Relax,” he murmured. “I'm here and you're safe.” 

Pietro moaned but allowed himself, perhaps as a result of exhaustion, to relax. In a few more minutes he was asleep again. 

It was a testament to how worried Remy was (and how out-of-it Pietro still was) that he didn't tease Pietro about how touchy-feely he'd been once they landed. 

Even the cats knew to wait to exact their revenge when they reached the hotel. Pietro was still sick, and Remy held him close in bed as he shivered and tossed and turned from muscle pains, until eventually he fell asleep. And when he woke up, the sickness had passed. 

And Remy relaxed for the first time in hours.


End file.
